The Purging of Asgard

Chapter 6

Loki ducks down the alley, unwilling to go too far. He leans against the brick wall in the alley, ignoring the putrid smell of the dumpster next to him, flooded with soggy garbage, he hides behind it anyway. He knew her, whether she remembered him now or not, he knew his wife. Yes, she was slightly different. Her hair, her accent, her manner even, but those eyes. He would never forget her eyes. The way they could see through his tricks, the way they would read him in such an unsettling way. He knew he never fooled her, but she stood by him through so much anyway, not because she agreed with him, but because of her inherent loyalty. Sometimes she spoke against his schemes, trying to convince him of the wrong she saw in his decision, but she was by his side through it either way, from his planning and scheming to the inevitable consequences. 
Even after so long he saw her as his one weakness. But losing her once was more than enough. So instead of leaving her, he hid, amid the muck and trash, the grimy bricks and cobbles soaked from the rain this evening, leaving mud stains on his trousers. He allowed himself a peek around the corner, checking on her; he could just barely see the front window. She was slumped against the wall next to the door and he had to force himself to stay where he was, though there were few people out and about on this side of town, he couldn't afford to bring attention to himself just yet. If all has gone as planned, he has followed his escaped prisoner and their helper without being detected and, even for her, he couldn't risk those two jumping to another, perhaps even more advanced, realm. So he sat. Alone in the cold again. Unable to keep his mind from wandering, he remembered when he wasn't alone, remembered a time before his heart was broken. A time when he could still feel.
He'd had a lovely childhood, he loved his family, at least back when he thought they were his family. The older he got, the colder his heart grew toward them; the more deceived he felt, no matter how he loved Queen Frigga, no matter what brotherly affection he possessed for Thor, he no longer feels the warmth of home, of familial love. Or any love, for that matter. He accepted long ago who he is, that he was always intended to make mischief and chaos, and he knew no one would ever be able to get close enough to fall for him. He would never allow it. 
"Sentiment." He sighs into the deepening night. 
But then she came along. 
In the beginning he thought she may have been able to tame him over time. He let himself let go when he was around her, he felt no need for his tricks. He wanted to be himself for her, so he let her see, let her get close, let his guard down. Then, as was inevitable, she left. She left him alone.
Not even a goodbye.

Loki is pulled from his bout of bitterness by a faint knocking. Someone had arrived at her shop and was currently trying to rouse her. An old man in a long winter coat, scarf wrapped tight around his neck, features obscured by the shadow from his brown tweed fedora. He knocked, almost frantic, until she sits up, looking groggy, then relieved, and unlocks the door.
Loki is about to turn, leaving her to her life here, at least for now, before he feels it, a prickling at the back of his neck. They are near. His prisoner and the traitor, he can feel them. He looks back at his Sigyn and he realizes, he's closer to his objective than he thought.